life

The Great Balancing Act

/ Cassie / 2 Comments

“If you don’t design your own life plan, chances are you’ll fall into someone else’s plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much.” ~Jim Rohn

I feel like a failure of infinite proportion lately. I am having trouble achieving balance in my life. It feels like if I am doing well in one area, another one begins to suffer and I’m not quite sure how to handle this.

Things seem to be going pretty well at work. My students are learning, my planning is always completed on time, and I have been receiving accolades from the people from “above” who have come in to watch me teach. But I have also been spending way to much time on these items. Planning has been taking place at school, yes, but also on the week-end and during the week, much to the chagrin of my family, and even me.

It seems that the reason things are going so well and I am doing so well, is because I am putting all my time and effort into it, which would be fine if I were not a mother and a wife and also did not have outside-work goals of my own. At what point did I begin to sacrifice my happiness and my family’s happiness for doing a great job at work?

The truth, that by the time I put all that effort into the work items, I have no more effort to give the people around me, the people I truly care about. I become short-tempered, short-fused, irritable and down-right mean, which is of no fault of anyone’s but me.

When was the last time I worked on an art project with my two little ones? Or built a pillow fort? Or made some weird looking house out of legos? I can’t even begin to tell you. Because when I’m home it becomes about packing lunches, making dinner, cleaning, or simply doing more school work because, somehow, the 10 hours I already gave the place isn’t enough.

And don’t even get my started on the last time I went for a run when it wasn’t dark out, or the last time I read a book, or even the last time I went and just enjoyed dinner with a friend. I can’t even remember when those last happened. Those seem like luxuries I can no longer afford. And I can’t tell you what my son’s homework was from last night because I didn’t have time to help him with it, dad did. I can’t even tell you what my kids are asking for for Christmas this year. Though I can tell you the last work e-mail I wrote, and I can tell you the last spill I cleaned, and I can tell you the last television show I turned on for the littles while I tried to get these things done.

And really, if I’m being super honest, I put all of this pressure on myself EVERY SINGLE DAY. I feel that if I’m not doing all these things someone is going to get mad at me, or rate me unfavorably, or simply (totally egotistical right here) outshine me. The sad part isn’t that I care about these things. The sad part is that I care so much I’m letting other, more important things, slip by the wayside.

I spent almost the entire weekend worried about a field trip we are taking on Tuesday. Worried that certain parents are going to get mad their kids aren’t going (even though THEY didn’t pay after the 15 notes I sent home), worried about what we are doing with the kids who aren’t going (which teacher is staying back?), worried about an upcoming observation that has yet to be scheduled…I worried so much that I missed out on truly enjoying my weekend.

It’s hard to tell myself that it’s ok to step back and take a moment. I KNOW deep down inside that I will still do a great job even if I don’t spend every waking hour on worrying about school and completing school related tasks. Everything will still get done. I KNOW this. But yet, I still don’t do it.

I didn’t run this week-end, I told myself, because I wanted to get the house cleaned, spend quality time with the kids, focus on family. Well, I didn’t run, but the house is still a mess, the kids are napping, and I binge-watched Netflix the other morning since they were at the grandparents.

I feel like I have these great ideas and great plans on ways to get my life back to how I truly want it to be. Yet, I do nothing about them. Planning and doing are two separate things I don’t seem to have the energy or the attitude for the one that actually takes an effort.

I need to be OK with not being perfect or the best. I need to be ok with a messy house if everyone is happy. I need to stop putting everyone else in front of my family and myself.

I need to stop. I need to breathe. I need to listen.

And then…I need to act.

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The truth will set you free

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.” ~Thomas Jefferson

I began writing in this blog as a way to get all the random thoughts out of my head, but also as a way to tell my story.  But as I look back, I realize I haven’t necessarily been upfront and honest.  I haven’t necessarily given all the facts and explained the whole situation. Mostly, this is due to fear. And judgement from people.  And to be perfectly frank, I’m tired of hiding behind fear.

I guess you could say it all began with a trip to Oregon.  At first I was excited.  A trip to the West Coast with a bunch of friends from work and a few days off from the kids to go along with it.  What’s not to love?

Then I remembered that I would have to take an airplane.  Then I remembered I would have to fit into an airplane seat and buckle my seat belt.  Then I remembered every single article I have ever come across about airlines who kick people off the plane for being too fat.  Then I remembered that maybe I would miss my kids and I shouldn’t go after all.

I belonged to a gym, joined in some arbitrary moment of “I can do this!” but at that point my workouts consisted of the 5 minutes I could stand on the elliptical or treadmill and then 30 minutes on the sit down bike.  Throw in a couple of easy strength exercises on the machines, and I thought I was actually accomplishing something.  The fear of getting on the plane and being embarrassed in front of people I had to work with motivated me to do something I had never done before…buy a scale.

After searching for what seemed like hours at a K-mart next to the gym, I finally found one.  I raced home, carried it up to the bathroom, and after ripping off every ounce of clothing and all hair accessories that could add weigh, I gingerly stepped on the scale.

331.

No, that is not a typo.  That was the actual number.  And while I didn’t want it to be true, I knew it was.  I sat down on the bathroom floor and cried for about 10 minutes.  How had it gotten this bad?  How had I let myself get this far gone?  Once I got control of myself, I got up, got dressed, and came up with a plan.  That summer I worked my butt off and in two months (right before my flight) I had lost 20 pounds.  I know that’s not a lot, but to me it was everything.  It represented that I could actually do this.

Long story short, they didn’t kick me off the plane, though I did need a seat belt extender.  But the heart wrenching fear I felt as I approached that first plane was probably the worst in my life. I didn’t sleep for nearly a week.  I vowed that I would continue working out when I got home and would get myself to a healthy place.

And I did.  For awhile. Until once again, life got in the way.  That fall I worked out here and there, but nothing significant.  Between two kids under 3, teaching kindergarten, and trying to be a good wife and mother, I never seemed to find time for the gym.  Finally in January, after realizing I had gained back 12 pounds (bringing me back up to 321) a friend and I decided to sign up for the Y-fit challenge (the YMCA’s version of the biggest loser).  And through that I fell in love with working out.  I lost about 35 pounds, completed my first 5-K and began to gain back some of the confidence I so desperately needed.

And then, as most stories go, my world turned upside down.  During the summer (on my last day of school) my dad died.  We had a rather tumultuous relationship (see posts from then) and I didn’t think it would really affect me.  But it did.  In ways that I will never quite understand.  And the gym took a back burner yet again.  Luckily, I only gained about 5 pounds, but by the time school started again, I was a jumbled wreck.  I didn’t know what was up or down or right or wrong.  All I knew was that I needed something to change.  I needed to be saved.

So I went for a run.  And really, that is the true beginning of my story.  Because on that day I was reborn.  I learned that I can decide how my life is going to go.  I am in charge of myself, my decisions, and my happiness.  I can decide to begin to heal, and grow, and change for the better.  And I did. Or, at the very least I’m in the process.

Over the months I ran occasionally, went to the gym, got injured, and then began again and again.  In January, on the eve of my 33 birthday, I hit my 50 pound mark (60 if you count from my pre-plane freak out weight).  And I’m still going.

I was looking back on old pictures today.  Pictures from pre-kids, pictures from post-kids, pictures from last year, last week, last month and I can’t believe the difference.  It’s not even just the weight, but the confidence, the happiness, the fact that there are more pictures now than there were before.  These are all indicators that maybe this time is the right time.  Maybe I’m finally exactly where I need to be.

And at 269 pounds I am currently running 15 miles a week and training for my first half marathon in the fall.  While I still have so far to go, I’ve never felt better.  I’m ready to begin this new chapter in my life.

I had to start and stop, begin and end, give up and keep going, numerous times to get to this point.

But if I can do it, so can anyone.  If I can do it, so can you.

2009-2013

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The last 10 months…

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Breath in, breath out, let go.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Sometimes life knocks you on your ass… get up, get up, get up!!! Happiness is not the absence of problems, it’s the ability to deal with them.” ~Steve Maraboli

I haven’t posted in quite some time (almost 3 weeks!) and really, I have no good reason.  The truth is, I had a pretty sad few weeks in February.  I don’t know why, I never know why, it is what it is.  I barely ran at all…and when I did, it wasn’t good.  I couldn’t get in the mindset of it.  I couldn’t get past how tired my legs and feet were.  I couldn’t get past how slow I was going.  So in typical me fashion, I stopped.  And while my muscles may have felt better (I was still going to the gym), my mind didn’t.

Then Wednesday I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep.  So, I figured, why not go for a run.  Even if I wound up walking it, it was still a form of exercise.  But as soon as I stepped foot outside and started running, the world seemed to drift away and all my problems and worries and anxieties went with it.  After two miles I still felt great so I finished up another half mile before heading home to get ready for work.  And it felt so good to be out of my head for that amount of time, just me and my music in the dark morning, that I got up the next morning and did 3 more.  And then did more on the treadmill on the gym the following morning.  And then did another 3 today.

While I know this is beating a dead horse (as I seem to state it every 5 minutes), I can’t believe how far I’ve come.  I remember a almost a year ago taking part in my first 5K and not believing that I was able to complete it at all just by walking.  Now, I’ve signed up for a half-marathon, a feat I never thought I would accomplish.  I remember week three of couch to 5K and feeling like I was going to die when I had to run for a 5 minute stretch.  And now I’ve run at least 3 miles multiple times.  I remember, in the beginning, after any run, I would pretty much be immobile for the rest of the day.  And just today, I ran 3 miles, then walked another 2 with the littles later on in the afternoon.

With every step I could feel myself letting go of the things that have been weighing me down.  I could feel my strength returning, knowing I was going to be able to handle the new challenges that would come my way.  I could feel my head clearing, seeing answers that have been in front me me all along.

That doesn’t mean, my world has dramatically changed. There are going to be bad days and bad weeks and maybe even bad months.  My problems aren’t going to go away.  My stresses will probably be multiplied over time.  But I need to remember the feeling I am having this week.  The feeling that I can accomplish things.  The feeling that I can get out of my head and leave my worries behind, at least for a little while.  The feeling that I am the one who decides which way my life should go by the choices that I make.

Because every moment is filled with these choices.  Run or don’t run, move on or stay put, feel sad or feel happy, hold on or let go?

100 Mile Challenge Miles Completed: 46.7

Current Weekly Miles: 12

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things”

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”  ~Marilyn Monroe

I really do love this time of year.  I used to think it had to do with idea of Christmas, family, presents, lights, and all the other things that go along with the season.  Yes, these things play a small part in the overall feeling of contentment I get during December, but they are not all encompassing.  I always thought my favorite holiday was Christmas, but it wasn’t until this year that I realized it is not.

My favorite holiday is New Years and for so many reasons.  Honestly, I am big fan of New Years Resolutions.  While I agree that you can begin a resolution at any time and you should never wait to change something you truly believe in, there is something so wonderful about the year ticking over to a new new number.  It’s almost as if New Years Day is a form baptism.  With the change of a number, the mistakes and regrets and uncomfortable feelings cease to exist, making it that much easier to start fresh and anew.  With the rip of a calendar page the whole world can begin again. You can set goals, make new decisions, basically become the person you have been waiting to become.

The other day I looked back on a New Years Eve post that I wrote as 2011 rolled into 2012.  2012 was the year, I decided with a vengeance, that I would have no regrets.  No matter what decision or choice I made, I would go with it, own up to it, and if it didn’t work out, I would roll with the punches.  Needless to say, this did not happen.  I still have a lot of trouble letting go, moving on, and not dwelling on past mistakes and regrets.  But really, in hindsight, this was a terrible resolution to make simply because the failure rate was astronomical.  While I can learn to take my regrets in stride, they will always occur.  It’s how I handle the feelings of regret that is the important part.

I think the reason I am looking forward to this New Years more than any other holiday is because, for the most part, 2013 sucked.  And I don’t mean in an “Oh I dropped my ice cream cone on the ground” kind of way.  I mean in a real, traumatic, life changing kind of way.  The most obvious thing is, of course, my father passing, which lead to a downward spiral of depression, but there was also going through the IEP process with Max, learning nothing was “wrong” with Max, but people made me think there was, a very rough school year last year, money problems, marriage issues, losing a car, and probably a myriad of other small things, that when pieced together were a recipe for disaster.

But this year, it will be different, if for no other reason than it has to be.  I can’t go through another year like last year.  In all honestly, I don’t think I would survive.  I think that because of everything that has happened this year I have grown and changed.  I’m not the same person that I was 365 days ago, and I couldn’t be happier with that.

I don’t have all of my specific resolutions figured out quite yet, but I do know the overarching theme.  Basically, I just need to be myself.  So many of my problems seem to stem from me hiding who I really am or even not allowing myself to shine too brightly in front of others.  I keep thinking that I don’t know who I am, but really I do, I’m just too scared of judgement to always show it.  There are all things we need to work on and change within ourselves, but sometimes, it’s ok to let the weird shine a little bit.

In so many ways I know who I am. I tend to have too many emotions and too often, the way I express them is over the top.  I cry too much, feel too much, love too hard, get jealous when I shouldn’t, and have a terrible temper. I’m loyal, but cautious.  I don’t always believe the best in people, and I’ve been proven right.  These are simply things I am not going to apologize for anymore.  I shouldn’t have to apologize for my feelings because they are real and a part of who I am, and the way I feel is important.  I need to stop worrying about constantly being judged.

Judgement seems to come at all times, even when we are doing something to better ourselves or set out in the right direction.  I think that is part of the reason I never really got anywhere with my running.  Sure, I improved, but I definitely didn’t try as hard as I could.  Basically, it was because I wouldn’t allow myself to take myself seriously and this was a mistake.  I was so worried people were going to judge me: Why does she think she can be a runner?  She’s not a real runner.  Why are you buying another pair of running shoes, you’re not a real runner…you’re like a really fast walker.  These are all thoughts that I thought other people were going to say about me because these are all thoughts that I was saying to myself.

Yes, I’m probably never going to run a marathon.  Yes, I’m pretty slow. Yes, there are a million reasons why I shouldn’t be running.  But I am.  And I like it.  And that’s all that matters.  And I don’t need to apologize for it.

I’m allowed to try hard.  I’m allowed to be good at things. Hell, I’m allowed to be bad at things.  I’m allowed to love you too much and tell you about it.  I’m also allowed to tell you why you are hurting my feelings if you are.  I’m allowed to take a break from people who aren’t letting me be me and are constantly trying to put me down to make themselves feel better.  I’m allowed to be who I am, and if someone doesn’t like it, it’s their loss.  I actually think I’m pretty awesome sometimes.

2014: The year of being me.

How nothing and everything has changed…

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Driving home, the sky accelerates
And the clouds all form a geometric shape
And it goes fast
You think of the past
Suddenly everything has changed” ~The Flaming Lips

Since I hadn’t been on Facebook in a few weeks, I missed random things that were happening.  As I perused a little this morning, I saw my brother had posted that last Thursday marked 6 months since my father passed away.  I couldn’t believe it.  Had it really been six months already? Had close to 180 days truly passed?  Have I simply been asleep or in a coma to suddenly wake up and find out this information? How can something feel like yesterday and years ago all at once?

I can honestly say that I have been through more in this 6 months than probably the rest of my life put together.  The dizzying highs and lows, the turmoil that was self-created throughout the summer, it caused a sort of retreat into myself that I have not quite been able to come out of yet.  True, I am not the person I was in August, not quite knowing which way was up and which way was down, confused about the sheer aspect of living life on a daily basis at time.  I am far from that, but I still sometimes feel the need to protect myself from people, and even from feelings, making sure I don’t become that summertime person I was.

While I have let go of the summer; of my dad, of memories, unsure decisions, and enlightening life changes, I haven’t truly let go.  Everything about these few months still hang around me like a dark cloud that could either blow on by or begin pouring down on me at any minute. Every time I think my stride has become right again and my path is straight and narrow a turn, or a rock, or even a small pebble comes out of nowhere to cause me to stumble and fall.  It causes me to relive and remember things that I don’t necessarily want to.

While I may have used the excuse of my dad dying before as the reason I was so off kilter this summer, I need to stop. First and foremost, it’s not fair to him.  He wasn’t a great man, frankly, he wasn’t a good man either, at least not to me, but when someone leaves us we can choose how we see things, and I choose to remember the early years over the later ones.  It’s not fair to continue to blame him for my short comings.  True, his death contributed, but only in the way that it caused initial strife and turmoil within myself.  I had the choice at that moment to begin getting better or continue down a path of self-destruction and we know which one I chose. I had no way to handle my feelings, or really simply to understand them, so I created myself anew, became someone that I wasn’t, simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with the effects of the pain; simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with feeling anything at all.

So many things died this summer, most notably, important parts of myself marred by uneasy choices and decisions along the way.  I have used the fall to rebuild what was lost and broken, and find the parts that were stolen and forgotten about. Some times I feel like I am back together better than ever and at others I feel like I am still a giant pile of rubble ready to be swept into the trash, missing pieces that are so integral to my survival

I’d like to be all zen and believe that all the decisions, even the bad ones, contribute to who you are. I’d like to think that even the bad decisions have gotten me to the place I am today and I should be grateful.  But I’m not all zen. I’m not even a little zen.  I’m not an optimist, I’m a realist.  In the words of Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Life could be a little sweet, But life could be a little shitty.”  And really, in a nutshell, that’s how I feel.

But if we’re still breathing, if we’re still upright, if we can still find something to smile about, then we haven’t lost our hope.

What I know now more than ever is that sometimes life sucks.  But then again, sometimes it doesn’t.

My Latent Love (an old post about Oliver)

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Here is a post a wrote about Ollie in January 2012 on an older blog.  I loved it so much I felt like I needed to share it again…

My little O is about to turn one in just twelve short days.  I have really been reflecting on this lately because, as I look back, I can’t believe how far we’ve come and what we’ve overcome together.

M has always been considered and probably always will be considered my little miracle baby.  Born after 2 losses, arriving almost six weeks early, it was hard not to love him at first sight.  This was something I had worked so hard to obtain, not just for for nine months, but for the three years before he was born as well.  He looked exactly like me and we were inseparable since our first day together.   And, in all honesty, we still are.  We are two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth.  Our personalities are so in sync that at times it is hard to figure out where I end and he begins.  There is, of course, a bond between father and son, but not quite like the one we share.

In opposition, being pregnant with O felt like a chore.  I know it had  a lot to do with having a toddler already, having to keep it a secret because we lived with my in laws at the time, and spending all my time worrying about where we were going to live, how we were going to pay for things, etc, but still I wanted it to be over.  I was ready for him to be born and ready to get the “parenting two under two” show going.

When he was born, he was absolutely perfect in every way a baby could be, but I was still worried.  Not about him because he was everyone’s favorite, but about M and how we would take it.  I know I should have been more worried about O, trying to spend more time with him, but I felt like, for some reason, he didn’t need me as much.  He had daddy, and the grandparents, everyone fawning all over him and all I could think about was how to make sure M was included in all of the newness and excitement.

I know moms that will sugar coat things and say that bringing a new baby into the fold was easy and natural, but I’m not going to lie.  From the minute we walked in that door and we were all left alone it was hard.  Taking care of two in a tiny house was insane.  Having no income at all while on maternity leave was a nightmare.  O was sick a lot and in turn we were all sick.  My sleep suffered.  My marriage suffered, everything seemed to be changing and I really wasn’t ready for it to.

My siblings and I are completely different, so I don’t know why I thought that O would be easy just like his brother.  There were/are so many differences, even from the beginning.  O wanted a lot of attention.  He loved to be held and be around people, especially his brother.  He was noisy and cried a lot and ate a lot, and was a terrible sleeper (still is!)

But with all of that came his smile, his huge blue eyes, and his ability to find joy and laugh at everything.  My day doesn’t feel complete if O isn’t up to say goodbye to me in the morning.  No matter what kind of day I am having, seeing him run to greet me when I come home with that huge smile on his face is all I need to change my day around completely.  He is definitely daddy’s boy, through and through, but I know we have something too, a connection that only a mom and son could have.  It may have taken a little while, but now I realize that I would not be able to function if he were not here with us.  He is the puzzle piece in the middle…the one without which you have no idea what the picture actually is, the one that keeps everyone together.

At first I felt guilty about these feelings I had, like I wasn’t a good enough mother for some reason because my heart did not burst full of love the minute I conceived, but I know that I shouldn’t.  My love for O grew a little bit each day and I know that even now it is not done growing.  Today I can say I love him to the moon and back, but that’s just because we don’t know what they will discover past the moon in the future.

Playing it safe…

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Waiting is painful.  Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.” ~Paulo Coelho

It’s funny.  I feel like I should write, but I’m not quite sure what to write about.  Sometimes I don’t even know that I’m thinking certain thoughts until they spill out onto the page as I type.  I finished my third 5K today and, to me, that is a pretty big accomplishment.  But still, I don’t know if that is what I want to write about.  I’m at a point where I don’t know if the problem is that I have nothing in my head or everything.

What I do know is that I’m tired of waiting.  But even then, I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.  A sign?  Something that tells me what direction I take at the fork in the road.  I’m always looking for something to tell me which direction to choose or which path to take: a certain time on a clock, finding a heads up penny, even my horoscope at times (ironically enough, my horoscope today tells me that if I have a particular issue on my mind, I shouldn’t wait for a better moment to get it out into the open). I feel like I am always at a “fork in the road”.  Each decision has it’s own set of benefits and consequences and really, you can’t know what they are until you make the decision.  So I spend time debating and agonizing and worrying so much that I create more problems and situations than there actually are.

I think one of my problems is that I don’t take enough risks and tend to not put myself “out there” as much as I could or should.  I tend to play it safe, thinking that if I don’t make a choice or a move either a. someone will make it for me, or b. nothing happens and I am no worse off than I was before.  Plus, what happens if I do put myself out there and it turns out to be the wrong decision or a mistake?  Or even worse, I am somehow rejected?  Sometimes I feel like my fragile ego just won’t be able to handle it.

I tend to write all these posts about how I need to jump in, make grand gestures, simply make choices and decisions, and yet that’s all they are…words on a page.  I don’t actually DO any of that.  I write about doing it, but never take action.  It all sounds so amazing and profound when I write it down and for a while I actually contemplate taking action, real action, within my life.  And then I get scared. And the worst part?  The really worst part?  Is that I am a giant hypocrite.  I tend to judge people for not following through when they complain about the direction of their life and yet I do the same thing.

At what point will I allow myself to make the first phone call, take the first step, or tell someone what I really want instead of going along with someone else’s plans?  At what point will I allow myself to walk away from situations instead of clinging to a hope that maybe, one day, it will get better?  At what point will I just DO SOMETHING instead of standing still?

At what point will I allow myself to jump, knowing that it’s just as likely that I land on my feet unscathed as it is I break my legs?

42 Days.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“I give myself very good advice but I very seldom follow it. That explains the trouble that I’m always in” ~ Alice in Wonderland

42 days.  In the same breath it feels like tomorrow and far away all at once.  In 42 days I am running the Color Run in Baltimore and my goal is to run the whole thing.  But in order to do that, I need to get serious.  And lately, it doesn’t feel like I have been at all, at least not about running and exercise, or even my life in general.

I guess, in a way, you can say that I’ve been back sliding.  The worst part is, I saw it coming and honestly did nothing to stop it.  I KNOW what I am supposed to do in certain situations, yet I tend to make the complete opposite choice.  I could have kept going, could have pushed through and gone running even on the days when I was tired, but I was preoccupied with other things.  Things that were, frankly, not as important. I wish I knew why I did it.  But I don’t, and I have to stop thinking that if I concentrate hard enough I can change the past.

It’s hard sometimes, to find that motivation that we seek to keep going.  I look on Pinterest for a quote to get me going, or seek advice from  friend.  But sometimes it just doesn’t work. What I really need, sometimes, is someone to just tell me to stop looking behind, only look forward, and get off my ass and go.  Sure I’ll be tired, sure it will hurt, but the way I’ll feel when I accomplish what I want will erase all of that immediately.  For the past two weeks I haven’t run a lot because my foot hurts.  But what happened to the weeks I was doing it before?  I’m sure my foot hurt then as well, but why am I letting myself use it as an excuse now?  I mean, really, if I look deep down inside, I know why.  But frankly, I just don’t want to face it.

I’ve come so far, since January, since summer, that I don’t want to wind up back there again.  And yet, I’m letting myself gradually slink and slide back that way?  And for what?  Why is this so hard?  I guess, if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.

I wish I didn’t need to look outside of myself so often for some form of validation, but even at the ripe old age of 32, I still do.  Hell, half the time I still feel like a teenager, worrying that everyone is starting at me, or talking about me, etc.  I know even my friends judge, because I know I’m guilty of it too, which makes it so hard to just be ME sometimes. I think the saddest thing is that I know who I am , I really do, but I have yet to feel like I can be truly MYSELF around anyone.

This morning, I had this moment (more like 2 hours) of just pure bliss.  As I was heading downtown with the sun shining, music blaring, windows down, I just felt sublimely happy; the way I was feeling a few weeks ago.  I was heading to pick up my race packet for a 5K a friend and I are doing tomorrow and just thinking about doing the race made me happy.  I don’t know what it is about running that is making me so euphoric, especially when I am basically just walking really fast (yup, I’m that slow), but why do I let myself get away from that feeling?  Why do I let myself stop?  Why I am looking for a quick burst of happiness from some other arena instead of concentrating on this?

This goes back to my previous post too, about the not half-assing my life anymore.  I’ve looked up how to train, I’ve looked up what I need to do to help (not cure) my plantar fasciitis, but yet I don’t do it.  Deep down, no matter what I do, I feel like I am still that lazy girl who wants to just sit in the comfy chair and daydream about things that will never be, plan – but not do, and basically take the easy way out.  And the sad thing is that I am letting myself and letting the people around me let me do it!

I don’t want to be that girl anymore.  I don’t want to be that girl from last winter who could barely climb a flight of stairs without feeling like I was going to die.  I don’t want to be that girl from the spring that put work before herself and her family.  I don’t want to be that girl from the summer who basically couldn’t think for herself and do what she knew needed to be done.

I know what I want to be.  I just feel like I have no way to get there.

Short ramblings on no topic at all

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all?  And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?” ~ Pompeii

I decided to get out of the house and get some work done today.  At home I have the best of intentions of doing things while the boys are napping…but they never get done.  I decide to read or watch TV…or do anything else other than work.  I knew if I actually wanted to accomplish something before the week started, leaving was the only way to do that.

As I sat at the Barnes and Noble I thought back to the last time I was here trying to get a little clarity.  It was the beginning of August and basically the eye of the storm for my summer.  It’s amazing to me how much has changed in under 2 months.  How much I broke apart and how much I have been put back together.  The same things that feel like they just happened yesterday also feel like they happened a year ago.  It’s almost unfathomable, sometimes, how much can change over the course of a month, a week, even a day.  That basically one minute of time can alter the rest of your course.  How one moment or word can put you on a completely different path.

I’m learning how to accept these monumental changes and try and move along with them gracefully.  I tend to take comfort in the known.  I re-watch the same movies and TV shows and read the same books, not only because I like them but also because I enjoy the predictability of knowing what is going to happen, and with that, knowing the feelings I am going to have ahead of time.  That’s not to say I don’t like change…I do…as long as I am the one who gets to initiate and/or control it.

I wonder how many different things I have been missing out on simply because I don’t close my eyes and jump into the unknown?  Of course, my fear is that it could turn out to be the worst decision of my life.

But…it could also turn out very, very good.

Fear and (self) loathing

/ Cassie / 2 Comments

“Everything happens for a reason, but sometimes the reason is because you’re stupid and make bad choices.”

I tend to be over analytical in most aspects of my life.  I weigh pros and cons before making decisions.  Each choice I engage in tends to be calculated and the safest, most restrained, choice usually wins out.  It’s all very responsible.

Until it’s not.  Because, let’s face it.  There are always those choices that we make that seem to express the sentiment “What the Fuck?”  I mean, I know at least for me, I can physically see myself making the wrong choice and I do absolutely nothing to stop it.  I somehow assume that THIS TIME things will be different.  THIS TIME it will work out for the better rather than for the worst.

And you know what?  It never does.  I make this decision that I KNOW is the wrong one.  I KNOW nothing good will come of it.  And I do it anyway.  And then do you know what happens?  I go into a fit of depressive self loathing.

Why the hell is it that I can get my butt up almost every morning at 4:45 am to run before teaching elementary school children in East Baltimore but can’t stop myself eating that one food, drinking that one drink, sending that one text, saying that one thought?  Does it all come down to willpower? Or is it something else?

I really have improved in so many areas over the course of just the few weeks I have been running.  I am happier.  I have more confidence, I am working towards fixing things that need to be fixed.  I love the way my life is going…and yet…I still can’t stop myself from doing certain things I know will hurt me in the long run (FYI: I am not a drug addict, secret cutter, alcoholic, or anything else lifetime made a movie about).  What am I missing?  What else can I do?  I need to make better choices, even if I don’t want to at the time.

End teenage-girl-though-I’m-really-32 rant.